


The Chosen

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bahamut is the worst, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: Worried young Noctis will fail in his duties to save Eos, Bahamut reaches out to the Chosen King, not caring that speaking to him causes Noctis to suffer from horrific migraines.





	The Chosen

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, got this one up on time! IT IS STILL FRIDAY IN THE UK WOO! I just got back from Distant Worlds at the Royal Albert Hall, which they opened with Apocalypsis Noctis :O And it only got better from there. 
> 
> Welcome to Fanfic Friday #9 :D Hope you enjoy your fic, anon! Gotta love writing manipulative Bahamut ;)

It came on at school. A sudden, terrible headache like nothing he’d ever felt before. A vice clamped around his skull and squeezed. Just turning his head caused agony to shoot across his head. Sickness churned in his stomach, rushing its hot, acidic way up his throat. He swallowed hard, bile scalding the back of his throat. Noctis closed his eyes, strange images made of blue light flitting through his mind. What was that? He pressed his hands to his head, a groan escaping him before he could stop it. In the middle of a silent classroom, it really stood out.

Footsteps approached. “Are you alright?” The teacher’s voice came from above.

The pain faded as suddenly as it had come on. Blinking, Noctis raised his head. Maybe today’s math problems were too much for his brain at the end of the long week. “I’m fine,” he said.

His teacher didn’t look convinced. “You can go to the nurse’s office if you need to.”

Noctis shook his head. Bad idea; that brought the pain back. And now everyone in the class stared at him. If he got up and left, they’d be talking about it for ages. They already had enough to whisper about; in the recent bad weather, his back and leg played up, leaving him with a noticeable limp. He didn’t want to add more things for them to whisper about. He ignored the looks and stared directly at his teacher. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

The teacher accepted it and returned to the front of the classroom.

The rest of the lesson passed slowly, the ghost of the pain lingering behind his eyes. By the end of the school day, he was drained by the constant pain in his head, back and leg. At least it was Friday. He could spend the whole weekend resting.

Noctis shuffled out of the classroom, head held high as he moved past the other students. Only one looked back at him with any kind of genuine concern. Prompto. The blond boy with glasses and a camera. Noctis longed for that boy to talk to him, but he didn’t want to spoil anything either. What if he said the wrong thing and somehow messed up? Maybe Prompto had his reasons for watching but never approaching. Ignis was always telling Noctis why other people found him intimidating, being the prince and all. What if Noctis went to Prompto and sent him running off forever? At least this way, there might be a chance of friendship one day, if Prompto ever came over to him and just said hi. But that was a problem for another day. Noctis needed to go home and go to bed. With medicine. There was only so much he could take, and Noctis was at his limits today.

Outside, rain pouring, Noctis forced his leg to take his weight. By the time he reached the car, he knew he’d never make it back to his room without assistance. The pulsing throb in his lower back was a warning sign not to be ignored. Ignis, umbrella in hand, saw him and ran over. “Noct? What’s wrong?”

“S’just a bad day,” Noctis said. Ignis would understand. Ignis seemed to know what he was thinking better than he knew it himself sometimes. Maybe Ignis was secretly psychic. That would explain –

Ignis stood close, keeping the umbrella over both of them. “Home to bed,” he said. “I’ll have the doctor bring by some proper medication and inform Gladio you won’t be joining him today.”

Noctis rubbed his head, the headache creeping up a notch. “Okay.”

Traffic back to the Citadel was horrendous. The driver apologised, explaining there’d been an accident on the main road. Noctis sighed, leaning against Ignis. He was in too much pain not to.

“Can you hold on?” Ignis asked.

Noctis stared at him. Seriously? What choice did he have? It wasn’t like they could ask Dad to have a Kingsglaive warp by with some medication.

“Noct?” Ignis asked, sounding concerned.

“It’s fine,” Noctis said, voice tight.

Ignis reached out, placing a hand against Noctis’ forehead. “No fever.”

“I’m not sick,” Noctis said. He was just in pain. Lots of pain. A deep, dull ache that wouldn’t shift no matter how he sat. Actually, lying down might help. He looked at Ignis, struggling to find a way to put it into words.

Ignis shifted. “Come,” he said. “Lying down will take the pressure off.”

Tearful with gratitude, Noctis shifted himself until he was on his good side.

Except with this headache, there wasn’t a ‘good side’. Actually, it was like he’d angered it by daring to not sit up. He squeezed his eyes shut, the pain ratcheting up. The strange blue images danced through his mind’s eye again, too fast for him to understand.

What was it?

Out of nowhere, a voice boomed through his skull. The words echoed too much for him to understand.

He moaned, pressing his hands to his head like that might help alleviate the pain. But what about the voice? Maybe he’d fallen asleep, dreamt it.

Or maybe everything hurting so much was making him go a little crazy.

“Headache?” Ignis asked, his voice cutting through the images.

“Bad one,” Noctis gasped.

A hand rested gently on his scalp, massaging gently. “Deep breaths. If you think you’re going to be sick, tell me and I’ll have the driver pull over.”

Noctis focused on pulling air into his lungs, releasing it slowly to keep from upsetting his already rebellious stomach. It was okay. He was okay. It was just pain. He could deal with pain. Slow, deep breaths. That was good. Wouldn’t throw up if he breathed like this. Slow. Deep. Carefully.

If only he could sleep. Then, he might wake up in his bed, dosed up and pain-free. Because if this headache was a new addition to all his other pain, he really wasn’t interested in it.

 “Traffic’s clearing,” the driver called from up front. “Everything alright back there?”

Noctis had to clamp his hands over his ears. The man hadn’t shouted, but as far as his head was concerned, the driver had screamed directly into Noctis’ ears. 

Ignis’ hand stilled. “I think we need to get back to the Citadel as fast as possible,” he said, voice dulled by Noctis’ hands pressed so tightly to his ears.

“Of course.”

The car revved, the noise cutting through Noctis’ skull. He cried out. Too loud. Everything was too loud. The sound slashed through his brain, trailing fire in its wake. He needed silence, stillness and darkness.

Ignis’ hand resumed its gentle stroking. “Hold on,” he said, his voice low. “I think you must have a migraine.”

Noctis didn’t care what it was. He just needed to be home, now. He was going to be sick. He didn’t have a chance to warn Ignis. Shame flushed through him as he coated the footwell, the stench of it slapping him in the face.

Voices murmured over him and the next thing Noctis knew, the car’s sirens and lights came on and they raced through the streets. All of the Citadel’s cars came with lights and sirens that would move anything out of their way. He didn’t care about anything. He didn’t care about inconveniencing other people right now. Everything hurt too much, the noise vibrating through his whole body. He threw up again.

Home. He wanted to be home. Now.

Ignis’ voice, soft and barely audible, murmured from overhead. Noctis wanted to cry. If Ignis was talking, that meant a problem was being solved. Ignis always –

_Hear me, Chosen King._

The voice sent another hammer slamming against his skull. If he could, he would’ve curled up in a ball, but his back wouldn’t allow for that. Instead, hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

_Hear me and know what awaits._

The words faded away. The car’s roar died in a screech of brakes. Doors opened and then there were hands, all over him, pulling him out of the car, away from Ignis. Noctis didn’t care. He didn’t care who took him so long as they made all the pain go away.

“Noct? I need you to drink this.”

Dad. Dad was there. Noctis forced his eyes open. Noctis’ vision was a mess of flashing lights, and yet he could still see Dad. They were crouched on the ground, Dad holding Noctis tight. Noctis didn’t try and speak. He couldn’t throw up all down his dad’s robes.

Dad looked down at him. “You’re alright,” he said. “I’m here. You need to take the potion.”

Someone held an umbrella over them, keeping the rain away. The soft sound of it soothed the pain in Noctis’ body. He saw Dad holding a potion. The special one made by him and the doctors. Noctis didn’t care how bad they tasted or how sleepy them made him. He chugged it back. His stomach threatened to spit it back out, until the pain thinned seconds later. Noctis could breathe again. And as his limbs loosened and everything faded, he slumped against Dad. His hand slipped free, arm loose. It splashed against the ground until Dad reached around and held it tight.

“It’s alright,” Dad said, his voice so soft it was like he knew about the terrible headache now letting Noctis go. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Dad’s voice followed him down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Regis left Clarus to make the necessary apologies. It wasn’t often he had to run out of meetings any more, but when the message had come through from Ignis about Noctis, everything else dropped from his mind. Regis ran as best his aching body allowed down to the courtyard, summoning one of the specialised potions from his Armiger the second the car came into view. And then, once Noctis was treated and fast asleep in his arms, he’d carried his son up to his chambers, changing him out of his soiled clothes. Regis caught sight of the scar. It looked particularly sore today, the weather always having an impact on his son’s mobility. He’d come a long way since the early days of his recovery, but some injuries lingered for life.

"My sweet boy," Regis whispered, choked with tears.

And yet today, there’d been something else. Something new. This migraine. Why had Noctis suffered so badly? Regis had a bad feeling. Something wasn’t right.

It would have to wait until he awoke. Regis tucked Noctis into bed. He brushed thick black locks off Noctis’ pale forehead. He would do anything to rid Noctis of his pain. He hated being powerless to ease his own child’s pain. As if the path before Noctis wasn’t hard enough.

Regis reached for his phone. He wouldn’t be returning to work today. He would have to delegate. The war could wait. Until he knew what had caused this migraine, he wasn’t leaving his son’s side.

* * *

Noctis opened his eyes to a world of blue light. And that wasn’t the weirdest thing. He floated in the glow.

_Hear me, O Chosen King._

A large hand reached out, catching Noctis. Looking up, he saw a massive armoured figure looking down at him. He knew who this was. He’d learned about the Six from Luna.

Bahamut.

But didn’t the Astral sleep inside the Crystal? Noctis didn’t get it. What was happening to him? What was he doing here?

Dream. It had to be a dream.

_You must hear my words. Understand your fate. Know that no sacrifice is in vain._

Noctis couldn’t find his voice. He didn’t feel awake enough. The light glimmering around him left him disconnected. This couldn’t be real. Bahamut wasn’t really there. Dream. This was all a dream.

Tired. He was so…

Light faded. Noctis’ eyes closed. He drifted off. Drifted away. Back into the blank darkness where no dreams could find him.

* * *

Ignis found Gladio in the training hall. Gladio looked over, then looked past Ignis. “You seem to be missing someone,” he said.

“Noct won’t be coming today.”

Gladio stared at him. “You alright?”

Ignis shook his head. He was shaken. Very shaken. And smelling quite foul. He hadn’t gone and changed yet. His trousers were still stained with Noctis’ vomit.

“What happened?” Gladio jogged over. “Are you sick?”

“Noct is,” Ignis said. He couldn’t get the journey out of his head. The pain Noctis had been in. How powerless Ignis had been to stop it.

“What’s wrong with him?” Gladio asked.

Ignis shook his head. He mustn’t cry. He wasn’t allowed to let emotion get the better of him. How could he be a good advisor if he wept over the little things? Except Noctis crying out in pain wasn’t a little thing. It was –

“Hey. Answer me!” Gladio demanded. His hand landed on Ignis’ shoulder. “What the hell happened?”

Ignis spat it out before it overwhelmed him. And then, before he knew it, Gladio steered him out of the training hall into the locker room.

“Take a shower,” he said. “I’ll find you something less fragrant to smell before we go up and check on him.”

“Right,” Ignis said, allowing himself to be pushed around.

Fifteen minutes later, clean and dressed in a pair of Crownsguard sweats, Ignis found himself at Gladio’s side outside Noctis’ chambers. For the first time in a few years, Ignis knocked before entering. He didn’t want to disturb anyone, or do anything that might make Noctis’ headache worse. A few moments later, the door opened and King Regis himself stood there.

Ignis bowed. “Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion. But I –”

Regis stepped aside. “Come in,” he said. “I wanted to speak with you, Ignis.” He looked to Gladio, who also bowed respectfully. “Would you sit with him, Gladiolus? I’d rather not leave him alone for too long, even if he is asleep.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Gladio slipped in and went through the parlour into Noctis’ bedroom.

Ignis turned to Regis. “How can I be of assistance, Your Majesty?”

Regis sat at the small desk where Noctis usually did his homework. “Tell me about this headache. How it started. What the symptoms were. I’ve sent for a doctor who will be attending shortly.”

Nodding, Ignis gave as detailed an overview as he could manage. It wasn’t much; Noctis hadn’t been well after school and things had quickly gotten worse in the car.

“Thank you,” Regis said.

“Do you have any idea what could have caused him so much pain?” Ignis asked.

Regis looked thoughtful. So thoughtful, Ignis thought the king hadn’t heard him. Regis stirred. “Apologies, Ignis. I was quite away in my thoughts then. And to answer your question, no. But I’d like to rule a few things out.”

As if on cue, there came a soft knock on the door and a doctor entered. He bowed to Regis. “I’ll go ahead,” he said.

“Please,” Regis said, indicated to Noctis’ bedroom door.

The doctor stepped in. Regis turned back to Ignis. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another.”

Ignis nodded. He had no doubt that Regis would find out exactly what was wrong with Noctis and why.

* * *

When Noctis awoke, he realised he was tucked up in bed. The room was dark, lit only by a few lamps in the far corners. He laid still, relishing the dreamy painlessness he drifted on. He could hear someone else breathing nearby. Ignis, probably.

Too drowsy to move, Noctis floated on his magic, medicated cloud. The sound of the rain on the window hypnotised him until he lingered somewhere between dream and reality.

_Chosen King._

The voice echoed from far away. An ache stirred behind his eyes. The pain didn’t reach him. Not like before. But it would strike the moment the medicine wore off.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice slurring.

_Your fate awaits._

Fate? What did that mean? “I don’t understand.”

_When all sacrifice for the King, the King must sacrifice for all._

King, king, king. Wasn’t this something Dad should worry about. “Dad,” he told the voice. “Dad’s king. S’not me.”

_Chosen –_

“Noct?”

A figure stirred beside the bed, too big to be Ignis. Noctis turned to the moving shadow. He couldn’t think of who it could be.

A warm hand brushed over his head, fingers sliding through the strands. Noctis sighed in relief. It felt so good.

“Are you awake?” the familiar voice asked.

Dad. That was Dad! Noctis giggled. How could he forget Dad? “Heard a voice,” he said.

“Yes, that was me.” Dad chuckled. “I think you’re still half asleep.”

Noctis leaned into Dad’s hand. “Voice woke me up.”

“Back to sleep then,” Dad said. “The sooner the better. I’m sure you’re going to feel much better tomorrow.”

Noctis hoped so. He really, really did. He closed his eyes, yawning until his lungs felt fit to burst. He fell asleep again within moments.

* * *

The sun shone through the windows next time Noctis awoke. Warm and comfortable, he stretched until his back and his leg caught and he had to stop.

“Noct? You awake?”

He looked and saw Gladio sitting beside him, his book forgotten on his lap. Noctis blinked at him, trying to wake up enough to speak.

Gladio stood up, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I gotta let your dad know,” he said. “Oh, wait,” he paused, mid-typing. “How are you feeling? Head still hurting?”

Actually, his head felt fine. Not even a ghost of a headache left. Noctis sank into the pillows. Thank goodness for that. He never wanted a headache like that again. “I’m okay,” he said.

“Good. You gave everyone a good scare yesterday.”

Noctis left Gladio to send the message. He carefully stretched again, reaching the point where it hurt too much before stopping. He didn’t want to get up. It might bring that awful headache back if he did. 

“Your dad wants the doctors to check you out in the medical wing,” Gladio said. “Think you can get up?”

Noctis weighed up his options; refuse, move by himself, or move with Gladio’s help. Sighing, he held out a hand and allowed Gladio to help him sit up. His head pulsed, his skull feeling weirdly stuffed full of clouds that slowed down his thinking. But not like yesterday. Nothing as bad as that.

“You tell me the second your head starts to hurt,” Gladio said. “Alright?”

“Alright.” Yeah, there was no way Noctis would, or even could, keep a headache like that to himself. But what about the voice? It was weird. It couldn’t just be part of the headache, could it? Like some weird dream that followed him. He needed to ask Dad, but Dad would be working all day. Maybe Ignis? Or…

“The doctors need to run their check-ups,” Gladio said. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure nothing in your brain’s trying to explode.”

Noctis didn’t find that very funny at all. Gladio helped him to stand. His right leg didn’t want to hold him at all today, not even after Gladio helped him stretch it. His back throbbed with every hop he took.

“I could run down and grab the wheelchair,” Gladio said.

Noctis thought about it. Sometimes, on his worst days, he didn’t have a choice but to take the weight off and move around in the chair, especially if he wanted to escape his room. But not today. It wasn’t as bad as it had been. The wheelchair could keep gathering dust. “I can do it.”

“You’re allowed to have bad days,” Gladio said, bracing Noctis as he hobbled across his bedroom. “It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

It wasn’t shame. Or, maybe it was. Noctis could feel his cheeks burning. He was of royal blood; he couldn’t be seen to be weak. He knew that. He’d studied enough of his family history to know that when things became hard, when bodies became twisted with pain or grief, duty carried them through. Or maybe dragged them through. Hard to tell sometimes. That was why Dad couldn’t always be there. Noctis knew his dad loved him, but he also knew that his responsibilities to the kingdom were far more –

_Chosen King._

“Ah!” Noctis pressed his hands to his head again.

“Whoa, whoa, what is it? Another headache?” Gladio held Noctis steady, even when his one good knee tried to buckle.

“Headache,” Noctis confirmed. “It’s like there’s someone –”

_Speak not of me to anyone. My words are for the Chosen. No one else may hear of me._

The words hit him like a car. The pain blacked out his vision. The next thing Noctis knew, he was in Gladio’s arms. “What happened?”

“I think you passed out,” Gladio said, sounding scared. “Shit. Your nose is bleeding. I’m getting you to the doctors, now. This could be serious.”

Noctis pressed his hands to his head. Why could he hear a voice? Was it real? He didn’t know. It just hurt. A lot.

_There is little time. You must stand for your people, or all will fall to unending ruin._

The blue images flashed through his mind again. This time, he recognised them from the dream. The place he’d floated in where the giant armoured figure waited. Bahamut. What did an Astral like that want with him?

“Noct? Noct!”

He jolted out of it again. Looking up at Gladio, Noctis blinked back his tears before they could fall. “I don’t understand what it wants.”

“It? What do you mean?”

“It’s –”

_You risk failure by sharing your fate with others. Were they to know, they might try and stop all that must occur for Eos to survive. You mustn’t allow the wants of others to stand in the way of the needs of all._

Noctis didn’t come back to himself until he was in the medical wing, doctors staring down at him. Where was Gladio? Noctis tried to sit up, but both the pain in his body and the hands of the doctors stopped him.

“You’re alright,” the doctor said. Noctis knew him; Doctor Gainsborough. He was always there when Noctis’ back was bad. “Relax, Your Highness. We’re going to find out what these headaches are and make them go away. Alright?”

That sounded amazing. Noctis gave a careful nod, mindful of the pain in his head waiting to strike again.

“Lord Gladiolus has gone to find your father,” Doctor Gainsborough continued. “So why don’t we get some of these tests out of the way while we wait for him to arrive?”

Noctis didn’t argue. If they could make these headaches and that voice go away, he’d let them poke and prod him. That was how bad he felt. He tried to hold still as they shone lights in his eyes and took blood tests. But when they mentioned putting him in a scanner, the fear started getting the better of him. He remembered those scanners, remembered the terrible noise they made. If they stuck him in one of those right now, his head would explode.

“No scanner,” he begged.

Doctor Gainsborough looked down at him with a familiar, kind smile. It was the kind of smile Noctis remembered when he’d been really hurt before, when the doctors knew they had to hurt him even if they thought it would help. “We’ve got to check your brain. If there’s something in there that’s causing these migraines, we need to know about it.”

It’d be too loud. It’d hurt too much.

“Doctor, his heartrate’s elevated,” a nurse said.

Doctor Gainsborough patted Noctis’ hand. “We’ve got ear plugs. They’ll make everything much quieter.”

“There’s nothing in my head!” Noctis cried out. “It’s the voice! It –”

_Be silent!_

Pain muted him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Noctis couldn’t cry out. It hurt too much to do that. He felt a prick in his elbow, and moments later the pain subsided. But with it came a wave of sleepiness. He couldn’t fight it. They were putting him to sleep! If he dreamt, he’d go back to that blue place. Where the light made him float and the figure loomed over him. No, no, no! He didn’t want to… he couldn’t go back…

“There’s a good boy,” Doctor Gainsborough said. “You get some sleep, and when you wake over, it’ll all be over.”

Noctis knew no more.

* * *

 

For the second time in as many days, Regis abandoned the council meeting. He followed Gladio down to the medical wing, not caring how startled members of the household staff looked as he stormed by. He must look to be in quite a state, and terribly unkingly. He didn’t care. Something was wrong with Noctis. And while he was grateful that the doctors ran their tests, Regis had a dark, nasty feeling that this was something beyond medical science. Beyond any science.

But why? Why would this happen to Noctis already? He was too young. In the vision Regis had had, back when his son was a mere five-year-old, he’d seen Noctis fully grown. He hadn’t been a small child still wracked with the pain of a life-changing injury. He’d been a young man in the prime of his strength. And Regis had seen what would happen if that strength weren’t properly channelled, guided, shaped to serve the real purpose of bringing light to Eos.

Was that what Bahamut feared? That Noctis’ fate headed in the wrong direction, that ruin would befall Eos? Surely not. He was just a boy! He’d barely started his training…

“Here we are, Your Majesty.”

Gladio’s voice brought Regis back to the present moment. He realised Gladio held the medical wing’s door open. “Thank you.”

Regis stepped through. A nurse greeted him. “Your Majesty,” the young man said, bowing deeply. “This way please. Doctor Gainsborough is just finishing up the scans.”

Regis indicated for Gladio to follow him. “You’d best call and update Ignis,” he said. Poor Ignis did fret. “Tell him to come as soon as he’s able.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The nurse showed them into an empty room, with space where the bed should go. Gladio stood by the door while Regis sat down. How he hated this, waiting in chairs for his child to come back from yet more medical treatment. Noctis had gone through more than Regis had in a lifetime.

Ten minutes later, a team led by Doctor Gainsborough entered the room, pushing a bed with them. Noctis was fast asleep, tethered to an IV. Regis startled out of the chair at the sight of damp tears on Noctis’ cheeks. Worse was the dried blood staining his lips. Regis didn’t wait for the team to put the bed in place before reaching out to wipe it all away. “What’s wrong with him?” Regis demanded.

“Your Majesty, perhaps this is a discussion to have in private?” Doctor Gainsborough asked, looking at Gladio.

“Speak here,” Regis said. “Gladiolus is privy to everything.”

“The good news is I’ve found no evidence of any kind of tumour or bleeding in the brain,” Doctor Gainsborough said. “In fact, the only test that did highlight any kind of potential issue was in his blood.” He stared directly at Regis, not shying away. “For lack of a better explanation, it’s as if the part of him connected to the Crystal is somehow more active than usual. Too active. In an adult such as yourself, Your Majesty, it wouldn’t be so debilitating. In fact it might prove quite useful. However, in one so young, so untrained, it’s overwhelming him. His body can’t withstand the stress.”

“What are you saying?” Regis asked.

“Your Majesty, if we can’t find a way to deactivate this connection, Prince Noctis may have a stroke.” Doctor Gainsborough didn’t miss a beat. “This could kill him.”

For a moment, Regis couldn’t find the words he needed. Nothing made sense to him. Noctis might die? Why? Why had Bahamut reached out like this? Why now?

“There’s nothing you can do? Medically, I mean,” Regis asked.

“I can run a few tests, see if we have any drugs that could counteract this connection, but I’m afraid I may already be a little out of my depth with this,” Doctor Gainsborough said. “Given that this is in all likelihood connected to the Crystal, it may be you who has the solution.”

Regis nodded. “Do what you can, Doctor,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll see what I can come up with.” He looked down at Noctis. His sleep did not look peaceful. Anger coiled in Regis’ chest. Bahamut had no right to do this. Not yet. Not when Noctis was still so young.

But this was one of the Six, and arguably the most powerful of them. What could Regis say to possibly make Bahamut leave Noctis alone? He needed time to think, time to come up with an appropriate plan. Noctis needed him, and as much as Regis wanted to stay at his side, he needed to be elsewhere in order to undo the damage Bahamut caused.

“I’ll be back shortly to check up on him. We gave him a rather heavy duty painkiller, so I don’t expect him to regain consciousness tonight. Sleep is the best thing for him. His body needs rest and as little stress as possible,” Doctor Gainsborough said. “Press the Call button if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Regis said.

The moment the doctor stepped out, Gladio bowed deeply. “My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty. When Noctis awoke, I shouldn’t have – ”

“Peace, Gladio,” Regis said, raising his hand. “These headaches are not your fault. I suspect there’s nothing any of us could’ve done to stop this. I’m just grateful you were with him and able to get him the help he needed.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

The door opened and Ignis entered. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing heavier than usual. “Forgive my lateness,” he said, bowing.

“That’s quite alright,” Regis said. “Both of you should sit. Stay with him.  Should he awaken, tell him I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.” He looked down to Noctis, pushing sweaty hair aside. Leaning over, he pressed his forehead to Noctis’. “I will find a way to lift this burden.”

Noctis didn’t react.

Regis left his son’s closest friends with him. He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone free. He glanced at the screen and called Clarus.

“Regis! How is he? The council sends their regards and hope Noctis is healing.”

Regis suspected that was the true sentiment of maybe two thirds of his council. The others, he knew, would much rather Regis marry again and sire a child without injuries or illness. If he could be rid of such bastards, he would be. Unfortunately it wasn’t an option. “Thank them, and send my apologies. I expect to be out of contact for the remainder of today.”

“Out of contact? Regis, has something happened?”

Clarus was the only one who knew the truth, the only one Regis had shared his burden with. And yet now, sharing his concerns seemed too risky, like somehow Bahamut would overhear.

“Regis? Talk to me.”

“I’ll be in the Crystal’s chamber,” he said. “Under no circumstances am I to be disturbed.”

“What if Noctis needs you?”

“That’s why I’m going, Clarus.”

Clarus breathed down the line. “Fine,” he said eventually. “Call me when you’re done.”

Regis ended the call. There was only one thing left to do.

* * *

The Kingsglaive guarding the Crystal chamber bowed to Regis. He dismissed them, as he had the last time he’d come before the Crystal on Noctis’ behalf. That time, when Bahamut delivered the devastating news, Noctis had been at his side, so confused and frightened by his father’s screaming sorrow that Regis had cast a Sleep spell on his own child to spare him from such a sight. Now, approaching the Crystal, it wasn’t with a sense of sorrow but rather anger. Deep, powerful anger. It was one thing to claim Noctis as his own, but for Bahamut to do it now, years before he should…

No. Regis couldn’t stand for it. It could kill Noctis. And then where would Bahamut be?

_You were supposed to prepare him._

Bahamut’s voice rang through Regis’ mind. He pressed a hand to his head, a dull ache gathering there. After all, it was the Oracle’s duty to speak with the gods. They could withstand this kind of speech.

“He isn’t ready,” Regis said. He held himself tall. He would not bow or scrape to this cruel deity’s will. Eos might be saved with the Six’s collective might. Regis’ entire family line may exist to serve them. Noctis did have a destiny to fulfil… but not yet. Not when he was still so young. “It’s too soon. You cannot do this to him.”

_You have not told him of his role. You have not prepared him for the battles to come. If you cannot do it, King Regis, then I will do it for you._

“You will do no such thing, Bahamut! You will have your Chosen King. He knows this. Noctis is aware that he will be a king like none that have gone before. But you cannot put a man’s duty upon a child’s shoulders. Don’t you understand? You’re killing him! If you continue, you won’t have a Chosen to fight for you.” Regis’ hand curled into a fist, the Ring digging into his skin. “You will have your sacrifice, but only if you wait.”

Bahamut didn’t reply.

“Leave him be,” Regis said. “Until he’s ready.”

_If you leave him as he is, he could fall. He could become like the daemons he should purge._

“No son of mine would ever do such a thing. Noctis is kind. He understands duty. He would never put himself before others. If you’re worried that he won’t do as he needs when the time comes, perhaps you are the one who needs to find more faith in humanity.”

_Are you so sure he will do what’s right? What’s necessary?_

“I am raising him to be what you need him to be. And I don’t particularly need you to tell me how to protect my son. Not when you are the one killing him! You may think you are saving him, but you have no comprehension of what you are doing. He is human, and he needs time.”

_Time is not something he has in abundance._

Did Bahamut think Regis didn’t know that? “I am aware of how quickly fate befalls the line of Lucis.”

_Then train him faster. Do that, and you shall have your wish, Father of the Chosen. He must be a weapon for the sake of all. You do not have time to soften the blows he must take._

Regis almost threw up.

_And know this. Should he waver, should he show the slightest hint of failure, I will step in. He cannot fail. It cannot be allowed._

Bahamut’s presence withdrew from Regis’ mind, taking the ache with it. Regis caught his breath, reaching up to wipe away the sweat dripping from his face. He stepped back from the Crystal, feeling a sudden, heavy weight fall upon his shoulders. He’d shared so little of Noctis’ true calling, his true fate, with him. Yes, Regis had insisted on training, albeit adapted for Noctis’ needs, but apparently it wasn’t enough for Bahamut.

As soon as he was better, recovered from this latest setback, Regis knew he had no choice but to step up Noctis’ training.

It was for his own good.

And the good of his people.

The tears hit Regis hard. How could he let this happen? Why must he stand by, knowing the pain that awaited Noctis? Noctis wouldn’t even get to live out anything close to a full lifetime, and Regis couldn’t tell him. Who could tell a child he’d be dead before he reached any kind of great age? Regis couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength. The thought of telling Noctis, of watching his son realise just how short a life he would lead, of the friends he wouldn’t get to grow old with, of the love he would barely experience… Regis doubled over, weeping in a way he hadn’t in years, not since doctors had prised his bleeding son out of his arm, rushing him away to save him. Alone in a private room, coated in his child’s blood, Regis had wept until he managed to regain some semblance of self-control. Now, he had to do the same again. Control. Composure. In the face of his son’s terrible fate.

No one else could know the truth. Not until the time came that he had to know.

A time still years in the future.

When he was ready, Regis left the chamber. As expected, a lone figure waited for him.

Clarus.

“I extended the recess,” he said. He smiled, the expression too tight. “How did it go?”

“As well as could be expected,” Regis said.

“Good,” Clarus said. “Now, go back to your son. Stay with him. I’ll deal with cantankerous councillors today.”

Clasping Clarus’ shoulder, Regis nodded his thanks. “You’re a braver man than I.”

* * *

Carbuncle wanted to play hide and seek today. Noctis didn’t mind. It was easier now that he was bigger. He could spot Carbuncle from above when the guardian chose bushes to hide in. Still, they played for what felt like hours, the calming forest still a safe haven for Noctis. They played until Carbuncle refused to hide again. Noctis’ phone chimed. He pulled it free of his pocket.

 _Time to wake up!_ Carbuncle followed it up with a very energised-looking moogle.

“Everything hurts when I’m awake,” Noctis said.

_I think your headache will be gone now._

“Really?”

_Yup. And your dad’s worried about you._

“Dad’s always worried,” Noctis said.

_Your friends too._

Noctis sighed. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Carbuncle ran over and used Noctis as a climbing frame. He danced around Noctis’ head, tail ticking Noctis’ nose. “Hey! Quit it!” Noctis laughed. The tail whipped up, blinding him. “I can’t see!”

“So open your eyes.”

“Huh?” Noctis’ eyes opened. Instead of Carbuncle, he saw Dad. Except they weren’t in Noctis’ room. This was…

Medical wing. Nowhere else in the Citadel smelled like this. And it was dark again. Noctis frowned. Hadn’t it been the morning? “Did I sleep all day?”

Regis smiled, his whole face lighting up. “That’s alright.” He cupped Noctis’ cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Um.” Noctis thought about it. “Good. Really good.” His head felt okay, and even the other pain had faded away. Although, when he spotted the needle in his arm, he figured that might be because someone was giving him lots and lots of medicine.

Regis spotted what Noctis focused on. “Ah, yes. Doctor Gainsborough has given you some painkillers. They’ll help with the physio when you’re ready. Can’t have your back and leg causing you so much trouble, can we?”

Noctis nodded. He knew he couldn’t stay in bed forever, no matter how cozy it was. Being still meant being stiff. And being stiff meant pain. “But the headache won’t come back?”

“No,” Regis said. “That’s gone. Consider yourself cured.” He stepped back. “You must be thirsty. Let me get you some water.”

“Dad?” Noctis called.

Regis turned to look at him. “What is it?”

Should he tell Dad about the voice? Should he mention any of it? Chosen King and sacrificing and all that other stuff?

Maybe?

No. That’d only make Dad worried. He didn’t need to be. Not ever again. Not if Noctis could help it. He couldn’t keep causing trouble. All Noctis wanted was for Dad to smile.

“Noct?” Regis asked.

“Is Gladio okay?” Noctis asked instead. “I didn’t scare him, did I? And did Ignis freak out? I really didn’t meant to – ”

“Don’t worry. They’re alright. Gladio’s going to come by tomorrow when you have physio. Ignis too. You know how he worries.”

Noctis nodded. “Okay.”

Regis came back with a small cup of water. Noctis drank it. When he finished, he broke into a huge yawn.

“Sorry,” he said.

“That’s alright. You get some more rest. It’s what you need.”

Noctis settled back against his pillows. Would Carbuncle be there if he slept a bit more? Maybe. But just in case… “Can you tell me a bedtime story?”

“We haven’t had a chance to do this in a while,” Regis said. He dragged his chair closer to Noctis’ bedside. “Did I ever tell you about the time Clarus thought he could take out a Marlboro by himself but wound up Confused?”

Noctis shook his head. “How did that happen?”

Regis told an only slightly redacted version of Clarus’ misfortune and his own heroism. Noctis drifted off halfway through, which was probably for the best, because that meant Regis didn’t have to try and explain what happened when he’d wound up Confused too and cast Stop on all his friends. Honestly, it was a miracle any of them survived life before Aulea gifted Regis a Ribbon.

Kissing his son good night, Regis leaned back in his chair and watched Noctis’ peaceful sleep. The tears came again, falling silently. Regis had delayed fate once again. He didn’t know how many more times he’d be able to do that before Bahamut and the Astrals had their way and used his son to save Eos.

Noctis would sacrifice himself for the sake of Eos.

But not tonight. Not any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did take inspiration from my own migraines, one of which is currently being held back by some pretty strong painkillers ^^; Listen, there was NO WAY I was missing out on Distant Worlds tonight! No way at all. Hope this whole thing made sense! Sincerest apologies if I've left any really terrible typos in there.
> 
> See you all next week! :D Until then, I'm on [Tumblr!](http://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/)


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